


Dirty, Dirty Licking

by NicWrites



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Eating Dirt With A Spoon, Elven Tongues, Elves Don't Blink, Elves Have Reptile-Like Tongues, Elves Lick Their Eyes, Eye Licking, Hair Kink, It's A Mirkwood Thing, M/M, Neck Kissing, Neck Licking, dirt eating, tongue kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 23:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18041003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NicWrites/pseuds/NicWrites
Summary: The King of Mirkwood is also a king of staring contests. It has something to do with his long elvish tongue.The Lord of Rivendell does not eat dirt. He suffers a nasty culture shock.For some reason these two end up... discussing their differences.//crack//





	Dirty, Dirty Licking

**Author's Note:**

> rated M for Mistake  
> i'm a dirty liar, there's no plot or what the summary suggests...  
> find me on tumblr (@femmefaramir) and send me some anons

As he sat in Thranduil's dining hall, Elrond was strongly reminded of his sons' youth. When eating together, Elladan and Elrohir used to fight over food with their tongues. By far the worst was untangling them; Elrond remembered that with certainty. It took him years to get rid of this distasteful habit of theirs.

Maybe it was his combined heritage of both Elves and Men that kept him from taking advantage of certain elven attributes. He had never spent much time learning to move his ears so they could seem natural. He simply did not think it important. No sudden twitching brought on by uncontrollable thoughts, no establishing hierarchy. For those who were used to expressing one’s state of the mind this way, Elrond was seen as composed and ever calm. Even when it only meant that they had one less way to be made aware of his mood.

If he were to be completely honest, those habits were in his opinion more suited for wild beasts, not to the last immortal Peoples of Middle Earth. Arwen, his youngest daughter, shared his view, or at least she had seemed so. Couple of times he caught her sniffing air around newcomers.

Elrond decided to gracefully ignore this repeated incident. _It could be worse,_ he had thought to himself, _I have heard that prince Legolas likes eating dirt._ He had hoped those rumours were not true.

They were. Like father, like son. In front of king Thranduil laid a bowl accompanied by a delicately crafted silver spoon. It was full of dirt, which was probably carefully hand-picked from the royal garden. And he was eating it. His graceful movements could almost hide the true nature of the bowl’s content. Almost.

Just when Elrond thought it could not get any worse, Thranduil licked his eyeballs.

It was a quick, sudden movement, somewhat similar to blinking. _This forest makes all beings do hasty things,_ Elrond decided. _Enchanted rivers and unruly trees. Truly a place to let one’s body and mind calm down._ It made him think. Had he ever seen the king blink? He had not paid that much attention to the other’s face. There were other matters, like discussing trade politics or being showed around Mirkwood palace. And when it finally came to admiring elven beauty, Elrond did not focus on faces. He preferred long silky hair he could bury his hands in, long fingers, firm backside... He was lucky, those features were common among elves. His type was basically everyone, save dirt-eaters. Yes, he even could cope with the Lothlórien tradition of consuming tree bark...

At this moment Thranduil brought him back from the depths of his thoughts. By offering him the dirt bowl.

Elrond could not think of better answer than _put the thing away from me or I may cause an unpleasant incident._ “Thank you for the kind offer, yet I must decline,” he said after finding the right words.

Thranduil’s smile changed into a slight smirk. “It is the finest soil taken from my personal garden.” His tongue suddenly showed between his lips, pointy and wet and not at all covered by dirt. If Elrond didn’t know better, he’d never guess what the king had put in his mouth just a few moments before.

 “If it is to your liking, I would offer you something. Between the two of us,” Thranduil leaned over the table, “it is a special delicacy. So special I do not dare to bring it into public quarters.”

 _Did he just invite me to his chambers?_ Elrond was so close to him that they could touch if they extended their tongues enough. What a strange thought to have when staring at someone’s face at diner.

The king seated himself. As if to make his intentions crystal clear, he suggestively looked at the other through his eyelashes. If he did not swallow a spoon of dirt right after that, Elrond might have found him too beautiful to bear.

* * *

 

“I noticed,” said Thranduil. “Your disgust. I take it Rivendell residents are not keen on including soil in their meals.”

“We are not,” said Elrond. He decided not to mention his House’s tradition of consuming fine gravel. That was entirely different from eating dirt; the pebbles were always washed by the river before being brought to the table. They also helped with digestion. Definitely better than some dirty... dirt.

He leaned on the balcony’s handrail. The gardens below looked very different than those of his home. They were encircled by solid stone walls, almost as if there had once been a dome, its roof collapsed a long time before now. Everything was set around giant trees. Their massive roots dug into ground and rose again twisted in various shapes, crowns of leaves casted a slight shadow on deeper forest floors. The balcony was situated many feet from the ground, just where the first limbs emerged from the trunk. Elrond almost forgot he was not alone. _Oh. I hope I do not insult his unfortunate tastes._

“I presume your tastes are different then.” Thranduil stood right behind him. His voice was no more than a whisper.

Elrond had seen this many times before. There was no reason to feel how he felt, shivering and sensing blood wandering through his body. He was old. He was no inexperienced elfling.

Yet when Thranduil gently grabbed his hair to bare his neck, Elrond eagerly shifted himself towards him. Then there was a mouth on his neck. Closing his eyes, he squeezed the handrail with more force.

The king’s lips were accompanied by his tongue. It slithered on the side of Elrond’s neck, neatly avoiding loose strands of hair. He let out a noisy breath. Years of self-control helped him keep his hands to himself. He wished to dig deep into the other’s hair, bring their lips together, and let them both forget they were lords.

 _He had dirt for diner,_ came a thought.

Thranduil made a sucking noise near his ear, and that was the moment Elrond arched his back to meet with a chest. Through the layers of clothing between them, he could still feel the heat. The same heat radiated from the long tongue which was currently exploring his jaw line and making its way to his lips.

Surely leaving tracks of saliva in its path, the tongue twisted. Thranduil paid no attention to Elrond’s mouth left agape, for he went around it and continued moving up. Now Thranduil had to be pressed to the other’s backside, so he could reach his face.

From his position Elrond could feel many things. The king’s tickling breath, his hand gripping hair, his excitement demonstrating itself in the form of his growing arousal. Elrond never wished it more that his robes would instantly disappear, despite the oncoming evening’s cold. He felt like he could withstand anything but being so far away from his lover.

Fortunately, he did not need to do that, at least not for another few hours.

* * *

Elrond was lying on his back, not even trying to escape Thranduil’s firm grip. The king was still asleep, draped over him in his usual dramatic fashion. One hand was in his hair, the other settled over his hipbone.

He sighed. His circlet lost somewhere under the bed, his robes discarded all around the room, his lover’s warm body pressing against him, and all he could think of was breakfast. Mainly they could postpone it to spend the morning in bed, exploring peculiarities of the king’s tongue...

_Or whatever he wishes to do. Just no dirt, please._


End file.
